And I'll Do It And Then Everything Will Be Fine
by Athena'sDragon
Summary: My English class had to take some of the dialogue from Ernest Hemingway's "Hills Like White Elephants" and turn it into our own story. Being me, I wrote it to Doctor Who! Lots of angst. This is specifically designed so that it could be any Doctor with any companion, so please review with your interpretation!


**Disclaimer:** _Doctor Who_ belongs to the BBC, "Hills Like White Elephants" belongs to Ernest Hemingway.

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**Author's Note:** This was for a prompt in my English class where we had to take some of the dialogue from "Hills Like White Elephants" and twist it to make our own stories. Because of this, the structure was a little limited and may seem slightly forced. Other than that, please review and thanks so much! Special shout out to DaddyLittleGirl15 for giving me my first favorite on my Doctor Who story "The Prospect of Death Without Love."

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They sat in the large room, staring wearily at the ceiling. Every now and then, the Doctor would start up excitedly, but the light in his eyes would die after a moment and he would fall back against his chair. The problem before them was one like they had never faced before, and, however hard they tried, they couldn't think of a solution that didn't come down to their survival versus that of the earth. They had made a deal, and now they had to uphold it.

"I can't do this now!" the Doctor said as he jumped up, more exasperated than afraid. "I was planning to visit the moon landing tomorrow!" He sat back again, chewing his lip. "Well, one of us is going to have to go, and obviously it will be me, because I can regenerate." A thought appeared to strike him, and his eyes widened, now holding real fear. "Blast it! These bloody Santrycians, they know about Time Lords! They'll…" The sentence finished itself in both of their minds: They'll kill me, really kill me, as I'm regenerating. I can't win this one. He turned to his Companion, mind working furiously to find a solution.

A long pause, then- "Then I'll do it," his Companion said firmly, sighing, "because I don't care about me."

"What do you mean?" the Doctor asked, looking up quickly. His eyes searched her face for hidden meaning, or perhaps a smile.

"I don't care about me, really." She shrugged. "It's impossible to care about me after seeing what I have seen, after doing what I have done. I'm not an idiot, and I know that you're more important to the universe, Doctor."

"Well, I care about you," he said slowly, not wanting to believe what she was saying, but reaching the conclusion that she meant it.

"Oh, yes, I know. You care about everyone." She looked at him with that mixture of affection and exasperation that she had perfected especially for occasions like these. "And I care about you, too. But I don't care about me. And I'll do it and then everything will be fine." She stood up, looking very small and resigned as she swung towards the door of the TARDIS.

"I don't want you to do it if you feel that way." He paused, trying to find the words, his face belying his panic. "I don't want you to do it at all! There has to be another way- there's always another way. I'll do it!"

His Companion appeared to ignore him. She shook her head sadly as she looked around the impossible room. "And we could have had all this. And we could have everything, see everything, and every day we make it more impossible." She paused, forgetting her movement towards the door, or maybe just wishing to forget it.  
The Doctor looked even more confused. "What? Why? Why is it impossible? What do you mean?" He looked at her desperately, hoping for a solution to appear out of thin air as it always seemed to.

"I said we could have had everything. If things had turned out differently."

"We can have everything! Just please don't do it, there has to be another way- any other way." He moved towards her, reaching out his arms to grab her.  
She sidestepped him. "No, we can't. Not anymore."

"We can have the whole universe!" He smiled a shallow smile, all teeth and stretched lips, as he stepped back and spread his arms to encompass everything that they could have.

"No, we can't." His Companion looked up at him, willing him to accept it, and at the same time hoping for continued contradictions.

"But we can go everywhere! Every time! Every place! The universe is ours!" He made a sweeping gesture, trying to indicate an even larger space than before.

She shook her head sadly again. "No, we can't. Our universe being destroyed. It isn't ours any more. It belongs to the Santrycians."

"It's still ours," he said, "and we can get it back. Now, or later, or before," he tried to joke, "because we have a TARDIS and we can do stuff like that, we'll get it back!"

"No, it isn't. Not for long. And once they take it away, you can never get it back. That's why I have to do this." Her eyes sparkled with tears as she looked him straight in the eyes. Her lips trembled, but she simply balled her hands into fists and glared at nothing in particular. As she struggled to regain her composure, she tried to explain. "I don't want to die," she whispered. The Doctor leaned his head to one side, extending his hand as he looked at her pitifully, but she held her hand up to stay him. "But," she continued quietly but firmly, "I'd much rather that than see you die, or see the universe die."

His chest shook with small sobs, his hand still extended and tears running freely down his face. "Please." He knew. Deep down, he knew. But that didn't mean that he had to like it.

They stood there for a moment, their dripping tears the only noise as they conveyed all that there was to say in a look. Then she moved freely into his arms, and they held each other tightly for a minute. There was a sobbing, breathless silence as each tried to hold the other hard enough to keep their heart from breaking. Both of their hearts broke.

After what seemed like a long time, but which could have been anything in the timeless space of the TARDIS, they slowly relaxed their grip and stepped back, arms still extended to cling to each other's shoulders. Eventually, even their hands slid back to their sides. The Companion, without looking back, swung around and slowly funeral marched to the door of the TARDIS and slipped out, leaving the key on the floor just inside.

The Doctor just stood. He stood, feeling as though some demon inside his heart were tearing its way free of him. He stood. After what truly was a long time, some small part of his brain began to function again, and he was in complete agony. His back arched, his knees buckled, and he lay on the floor, sobbing when he had the breath and moaning and gasping and rattling when he didn't. He wanted to charge out and save her, save everyone, but he knew that her fate had been sealed the moment she left the TARDIS. One could not simply break binding agreements, and she had chosen. But still, he wished he had kept her inside for another minute, had held her for another hour, had known her for another lifetime. But he hadn't, and that was what was ripping him apart.


End file.
